


Falling Stars

by jadetea



Category: Villainous Nights (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadetea/pseuds/jadetea
Summary: Jamie Reid never thought she'd end up working in marketing, especially not with her celebrity crush as her boss. Dahlia keeps everyone at a distance, but Jamie gets a glimpse of her vulnerable side after they're attacked by a nefarious group. Jamie wants them to become closer, but Dahlia is reluctant to let her in—and not just because of their professional relationship.Can Jamie navigate the torrid waters of Dahlia's heart, or will they both drown in sorrow?aka DAHLIA ROUTE WHEN
Relationships: Dahlia London/MC
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	Falling Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I have a bunch of stories to work on  
> Brain: IDEA  
> Me: I should work on my main—  
> Brain: I D E A  
> Me: But—  
> Brain: shut the fuck up and write this!!!  
> Me: 🙃

"Hey, you sure you want to go back so soon?" Robin eyes me with concern, "I'm sure HR would understand if you need more time." 

I shake my head, "No. I mean, yeah, HR could probably give me more days, but I don't want to spend another week on the couch. Besides, I'm going to be working in the main office again. Security is _way_ better there."

"Just take care of yourself," they give me a small smile, "Have a good day!" 

"You too!" I wave at my roommate as I leave.

* * *

"Hi," I give the receptionist a friendly wave, "I'm Jamie Reid. I'm returning to work after…" 

My words falter, but she seems to understand what I'm saying. 

"The incident a few weeks ago?" she makes a sympathetic noise, "I'm so sorry, that must have been horrible. Give me a second and I'll find out where you need to go."

After a few moments of typing and clicking, she looks up at me with an encouraging smile, "You're on the fourth floor, in the marketing department. Your new supervisor should already be there."

My stomach twists. 

Charles wasn't exactly the nicest boss, but I wouldn't wish his fate on anyone. The official release didn't mention any specifics, but there are rumors that the terrorists behind the attack tortured him with electricity before they blew up the building.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, that must have sounded insensitive," the receptionist gives me a pitying look, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

My grimace deepens. This is why I didn't want to come back to work. The pitying stares, the hushed whispers. I don't want that kind of attention. 

"It's fine," I reply stiffly, "Thank you for your help."

* * *

Optimus tower is beautiful—the whole place does a great job of maintaining the company's aesthetic—but it's such a pain to navigate. I get turned around a few times, and by the time I make it to the marketing department, I can only pray my new boss isn't a stickler for time. 

…whoever they are. I forgot to ask for a name. 

Maybe I can just ask around? Thankfully the first person to pass by me seems fairly approachable. She even seems kind of familiar… 

"CrashingWaves?" I blurt out. I can't believe it took me so long to recognize her, especially with her signature teal hair! 

"That's a name I haven't heard in a while," she looks at me curiously, "Can I help you? It's Dahlia, by the way. Dahlia London."

"Oh, um," I shake her hand, praying she doesn't see my blush, "Jamie Reid. I'm looking for the marketing trainer? I'm new."

CrashingWa– _Dahlia_ gives me a cool smile, "Congratulations, you've found me. Let's talk in my office."

The short walk gives me a chance to look over Dahlia—not in an inappropriate way! Mostly. 

I'm appreciating her aesthetic. 

(Really, I am. How did she manage to pull off looking so cool without looking too casual for work? That jacket looks great on her!) 

"Thank god they finally sent me some help," Dahlia huffs as she settles into her chair. She gestures at the one across from her, "We've been buried in work for too long. It's not like the company is going to market itself."

After working with Charles for so long, Dahlia's casual flippancy is disorienting.

"I'm surprised I'm the only addition. It's not like I'm the only displaced intern around."

She raises an eyebrow, and I can see the moment it clicks for her, "Wow, you're right. Guess they're still being stingy then." 

I laugh along with her, relieved to not be the target of yet another pitying stare. 

"In any case, I'm glad to have you here," Dahlia smiles at me, "Let me give you the rundown of your new role."

* * *

My orientation takes place longer than either of us expect.

Mostly because Dahlia and I keep end up having tangential discussions as she shows me around. While I haven't had my degree for long, it feels like it's been forever since I've been able to have this sort of academic conversation with anyone. 

Dahlia's more versed in philosophy than I am, and some of her takes on mainstream concepts are _fascinating_. She seems equally enthralled when I end up rambling about the intersection of linguistics and psychology, and we don't realize how much time has passed until my stomach grumbles. 

Loudly. 

Dahlia glances at her wrist, "It's getting close to lunch. Go ahead and take your break now, and we can finish getting you settled in when you come back."

"Oh, sure!" I pause, "Are you going to get lunch too?"

Dahlia coughs, "Right. About that…I didn't want to bring it up, but I'm guessing you were a fan?" 

I shrug. It's not like she's the only person I follow on Snapshot…though I did make the account because I got tired of manually checking her feed. 

"I'm not exactly one for needless formality, but there _are_ professional lines I don't cross."

Her face drops into her signature aloof expression. I never realized how cold it is, but now it's strikingly obvious in comparison to the warm, open demeanor it replaced. 

"Of course," I hope my blush doesn't show, "I didn't mean anything inappropriate, and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She waves me off, her posture slightly more relaxed, "You're not in trouble. I just want to make sure we're on the same page. Go ahead, I'll see you after lunch."

I'm halfway through my burrito when I realize I hadn't even asked Dahlia out before she threw up her walls. In fact, aside from my greeting, I'm pretty sure I didn't even hint at anything unprofessional. 

Strange.

* * *

Despite her little speech, Dahlia is still the most casual boss I've ever had.

It's nice. After dealing with Charles' Jekyll and Hyde routine, I appreciate Dahlia's blunt honesty. It might be my imagination, but while she's not exactly frosty with others, I can't help but notice she's much more relaxed when working with me. 

Then again, there's a disproportionate amount of dudes in the department, and more than a few of the older ones are rather critical of Dahlia's modern approach to marketing. 

"Hey, Jamie," Dahlia knocks on my cubicle wall, "I'm pulling you off of analytics for a while. I've got a new project, and I want you on my team."

I blink, "Oh, wow. You weren't wrong when you said I'd be doing a little bit of everything, huh?" 

"To be fair, you've been far better at adapting than most trainees," Dahlia smiles, "Which is why you're joining my team. As you know, I had a large following on Snapshot before Optimus recruited me.

"I'm going to be reviving my old account soon. We're going to use the hype to boost Optimus' image, while using the official Optimus accounts to boost my brand in return."

"Wow," I let out a low whistle, "That's huge! You're going to be the face of Optimus!" 

"Well, that's the idea," Dahlia's eyes twinkle with mirth, "Though I'm really going to be more of a social media rep. It's not like I'll be replacing Scarlet Brighid."

"Hmm, maybe not directly, but we could market you as the 'next generation' of Optimus? Scarlet's not _old_ , but she's been around for a while."

"I'll have to run that by the board, but that's not a bad idea," Dahlia looks impressed, "Maybe you can help me think of a few more for this project. Snapshot is having one of its design contests soon, and it's the perfect opportunity for me to make a splash debut.

"I've already got the go ahead from Snapshot to incorporate Optimus into my design, so it'll be a great opportunity for the company to reach more people."

"So what's my role in all of this?"

"You're going to help with the presentation. There's going to be a party where we present our entry and your job is to help sell my design to the audience," Dahlia smiles, "That means you'll have to know the product inside-out and be able to handle any questions tossed your way. Think you can handle it?" 

"Sure," I nod, "You know…it might be kinda cool to have a behind-the-scenes post on your design process. I could get familiar with your entry and produce some content at the same time." 

"Look at you go! That sounds like a great idea," Dahlia frowns, "That might be a bit much for you though. I do most of my creative work outside of the office."

"Oh…" I match her frown, "Yeah, I wouldn't want my personal space publicized either."

Dahlia gives me a puzzled look, "What? I don't mind sharing a few photos or clips of my place–I just meant it would be too much to ask you to work extra hours."

"I don't mind!" I pause, "Well, I don't mind working extra hours, but I don't think interns get overtime pay."

"I can authorize extra hours for you," Dahlia says quickly, "I wouldn't ask you to work for free. Give me a day or two to arrange everything, and then we can get started."

"Um. So what am I doing until then?" 

Dahlia taps her chin, "I like your 'next generation' idea. We could do a series of interviews with Optimus employees. Do some research–see if there's anyone with an interesting story to tell."

"Besides you?" I joke. 

A strange expression flickers across Dahlia's face, but it's replaced by her usual cool expression before I can get a good look. 

"I'm sure there are plenty of people at Optimus with better stories than mine," she says wryly. She sighs, then catches herself, "I mean, I'm pretty boring. I'm lucky Optimus recruited me."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. You're not boring at all!" I give her an encouraging smile, "Your Snapshot account is full of great content. It's the only reason I bothered to make an account in the first place!" 

Woops, went a bit far there. Luckily, Dahlia's too busy being flustered to notice my blush. 

"That's, um…very sweet, Jamie," Dahlia clears her throat, "Well, I'll let you get started on your research. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, I will!" I manage a cheery wave, then slump onto my desk as soon as she's out of sight. 

I've been trying _really_ hard to not come off as a fangirl—it's more difficult than I expected, since she just gets cooler the more I get to know her. I already had a bit of a crush on her—or on her public image, at least—and learning about her as a _person_ has just made it worse.

Maybe I just need to get out more, go on some dates. I don't know anyone in the city besides Robin, and work hasn't been a great place to make friends—until now, at least. 

Except the only person I'd want to call a friend is my boss. 

I sigh and open a new document on my laptop. Maybe I'll be able to make friends through this 'next generation' project since I'm literally trying to look for awesome people to talk to.

* * *

It only takes a few minutes of research to find a great candidate—I had no idea the company's founders had a kid, and she's _literally_ the next generation of Optimus. She hasn't been idle either. I have to dig around to find scraps of info, but from what I can tell, she started as a regular intern and worked her way up. 

Going from intern to head of a department within a year is kind of sketchy, but it's entirely possible she's just _that_ impressive. 

I hope she is—it would make pitching this idea a lot easier.

I send her an email via the company intranet, and—to my surprise—she sends a message back within minutes.

**From:** juliette.optima@optimus.org  
**Subject:** RE: Optimus' Next Generation  
**To:** jamie.reid@optimus.org

Hi Jamie,   
I think your idea is wonderful, but for security reasons, I will have to refrain from participating. However, I suggest you consider interviewing my cousin, Paris Optima. She's the current head of R&D, which is much more future focused than the IT department.   
Best, Juliette Optima 

Security reasons? I guess that explains why her existence isn't common knowledge. Her parents are known to be rather reclusive though, so she probably gets it from them. 

Oh well. At least she pointed me towards another interesting candidate.

* * *

Two days later, we get permission to do a special on Dahlia's design process, so she invites me to her apartment after work. She tries to sound casual, but there's a hint of nervousness in her posture that only increases when I accept her invitation. 

Once the topic switches to my "next generation" project, Dahlia relaxes. I'm relieved—it would have been even more awkward if she stayed like that all day. Thankfully, Dahlia is her usual self and we easily fall back into our  
casual rapport. 

Dahlia tends to work in the common area—so she's more accessible to those who need help—and I often drag my laptop out and join her. It's nice sharing space with someone who's also chugging away at work. 

I used to be nervous about breaking the silence, but Dahlia seems to enjoy the occasional conversational break, "Dahlia?" 

"Hm?" Dahlia continues working on her laptop across from me. 

"What's your job here?" I flush, then hastily continue, "Like, your formal title. Are you head of the department?" 

She lets out a short bark of laughter, "Not in name, but essentially, yes. I'm technically just the marketing trainer, but I pretty much run the department, working with Clark from PR as needed."

"Oh, wow. That's really impressive," I beam, "From recruit to department head in a year!"

Dahlia gives me a wry smirk, "There's a reason I went on a hiatus from Snapshot–I've been busy."

Her smirk turns into a sly smile, "It's hard work telling interns what to do all day."

"Of course. Very hard work," I joke, "I'm still waiting to be sent on a coffee run."

Dahlia snorts, "You'll be waiting for a long time. I've got better uses for your work hours than gopher tasks."

"I hope you keep that in mind when it's time for my 90-day performance evaluation!" I joke. 

Dahlia laughs, "You can remind me by keeping up the good work." 

We both go back to work, occasionally stopping to share random thoughts or observations. 

I might be imagining it, but Dahlia seems to look at me pretty often. It's more likely that she's just spacing out in my direction, but she glances away quickly whenever she notices me returning her gaze.

Maybe she's more nervous about showing her place than I thought?

"This might sound weird since I suggested the idea in the first place, but we don't have to do the behind the scenes stuff if it bothers you."

Dahlia looks puzzled, "What are you talking about? Are you uncomfortable with the project?" 

"What? No, I'm excited, actually. Everyone has a unique creative process and I'm looking forward to seeing yours," I frown, "I don't mean to step out of place, but I can tell that the project makes you nervous. You're already tensing up again."

"Your concern is swe–…appreciated," Dahlia says slowly. She forces her shoulders down, though her posture still gives away her tension, "Your project is fine, I just have a lot on my plate right now. It's very important that I do well in this competition, that's all."

"I'm sure you'll do great!" I smile, "I've seen a lot of your product designs. You've got a knack for combining fashion with function."

Dahlia turns pink—she's so pale, even the slightest blush shows—at the praise, "Thanks, Jamie."

* * *

Dahlia's apartment is pretty much what I expected. It's neat in a way that makes me think she didn't have to clean up much—or at all—before I came over. It's in a pretty nice neighborhood, but she _is_ the de facto department head, and Optimus pays its employees well. 

(Seriously, I'm lucky they pay interns this much. Rent in the city is expensive!) 

"Oh, could you leave your shoes here?" Dahlia gestures at a small rack by the door, "I can get you a pair of slippers if you don't want to go barefoot."

"No thanks," I tug my shoes off and place them on the rack. They seem rather plain, surrounded by Dahlia's boots and fancy sneakers. 

Dahlia nods, "Can I get you anything before we get started? Water? Coffee?" 

"Oh man, if I have caffeine now I'm never falling asleep," I joke, "Your place looks awesome, by the way. I wish I kept my apartment half as neat as yours."

"It's mostly discipline. Creating a system and sticking with it," she leads me inside, "Here's my office. You can put your bag down wherever."

Dahlia's office looks much more lived in—it's not exactly messy, but it's not perfectly arranged the way her kitchen and den are. She has two desks on opposite sides of the room—an office desk, and a small drawing table. The latter has her most recent sketch on display, the rest sit in a stack by her laptop dock. 

"Wow, is the left brain/right brain separation intentional?" It's not like there's a line drawn down the middle of the room, but one side is clearly stocked for creative pursuits while the other looks closer to a typical home office. 

Dahlia shrugs, "Sort of. Having a specific space for different tasks helps me focus. Product design isn't as straightforward as people think."

"Hey, do you mind if I start recording audio?" I ask sheepishly, "Just for my own reference, it won't be posted." 

"Oh…sure? Are we starting the interview already?" 

"Not officially," I turn on a little audio recorder Juliette sent me as an apology—I don't get why she felt the need to apologize, but I'm not turning down free Optimus tech, "It's more for me to get to know you better–I mean, so I can write a better article!" 

Oh no, she's going to think I'm a creep. 

To my surprise, Dahlia snorts, "Calm down, I know what you meant."

She sits in front of her drawing table and gestures for me to take the seat in front of her computer. 

"As I was saying, there's more to product design than people think. You can have an amazing design, but if it costs more to produce than it'll sell for, no one will make it. That seems obvious, but it's still something you have to consider at every step of the process," Dahlia grabs her sketch, then lays it on the table in front of me, "It's also important to be familiar with the materials you're working with. For example, cotton doesn't dry as quickly as wool or synthetic performance fabrics, so it's not an ideal fabric for a gym bag." 

"That makes sense. I'm guessing you're fairly knowledgeable about fabric then?" 

"I wouldn't call myself an expert, but yes," Dahlia looks sheepish, "And to be fair, the reason most people don't think about product design in the way I described is because the overall process goes through several different people. A contest like Snapshot's 'Be Your Best You' is more interested in early concepts–the logistics can be handled later."

"…I'm confused now."

Dahlia hums, "I was referring to the entire design process–which has multiple phases–at first, but Snapshot's contest is focusing on early steps, not the whole process." 

We chat more about Dahlia's views on design—her aesthetic preferences, her inspirations, that sort of thing. She's more than happy to let me pick her brain. In fact, I think this is the longest I've seen her go without retreating into her "I'm too cool, but you still like me" persona. 

"Are you looking forward to anything in particular? For the contest, your career…?" I make a vague gesture with my hand. 

"Well," Dahlia's lips quirk into a wicked smile, "There's someone in particular I'm hoping to see at the contest. We're…colleagues. Sort of. She's another popular Snapshot user, and it's been some time since our last competition."

"Are you excited to see what she'll make?"

Dahlia laughs, "I'm excited to have the chance to beat her again."

That's more aggressive than I expected, but Dahlia practically lights up as she talks about previous encounters with her "colleague". She's surprised I'm only vaguely aware of who she's talking about—apparently there's a lot of overlap in their fanbases. 

"It sounds like you two are close." 

"We were," Dahlia looks down, "We fell out of touch during my hiatus, though."

"Well, nothing says 'Hey, I'm back!' like showing up and wrecking the competition, right?" I grin. 

Dahlia cackles—then coughs in an effort to hide it. She looks embarrassed, like I just caught her sneaking a cookie from the jar. 

I redirect her attention, "Hey, could I use your bathroom?"

"Ahem. Of course, it's the door on the left," she's still pink, "I'm going to get started on some drafts. I don't mind if you watch–" 

Brain, get out of the gutter. 

"–but I won't be able to talk much. If any questions pop up, could you write them down for me to answer later?" 

I nod, "Sure! But I can also get out of your hair if I'm in the way. We already got a pretty good start."

"Oh…" Dahlia looks disappointed, "Of course, I've taken enough of your time."

"I–…I'll be right back," I point at the door, "Bathroom."

"Right, sorry!" Dahlia jumps in her seat, "Didn't mean to hold you up."

"You're good!" I give her a thumbs-up as I exit.

* * *

As much as I want to stay—I suspect Dahlia wants the same thing—it's actually already pretty late. I hadn't realized so much time passed. 

"Hey roomie!" Robin greets me from the couch, "Late night at the office?" 

"Sort of," I glance over the couch to see what they're watching—another monster documentary, "I've got a special project with my new boss."

"Oh? And how's that going?" they give me a sly grin. 

I narrow my eyes at them, "I know that look–it's not like that!" 

"So you _aren't_ getting some extra time with _Dahlia_?" they say her name in a sing-song voice, "Jamie and Dahlia, sitting at a desk. K-I-S-S–mmph!" 

I toss one of the couch pillows at them, "I just said it's not like that!" 

"But you wish it was!" Robin laughs. 

I groan and flop onto the couch next to them, "…maybe."

"You could always fish for another transfer," they grin, "Or try to get promoted so she's not your boss anymore."

"Robin," I give them a flat look, "You're assuming Dahlia's interested in me like that."

They shrug, "You talk about her a lot. From what you've told me about her, she clearly goes out of her way to spend time with you." 

Does she? I wrack my brain. 

I mean, she's my boss, so it's normal for us to see each other often, right? Maybe it's unusual for us to share a workspace so often, but I chalked that up to me seeking Dahlia's company, not the other way around. 

Although…I never understood her reasoning for working in the common area. If she wanted to make sure people in the department could find her, wouldn't her office be a better place to work? 

"That's a moot point," I sigh, "She was pretty clear about not crossing 'professional lines'." 

They raise an eyebrow, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

I roll my eyes and fling another pillow at them. We spend the rest of the night watching their monster show—it's a special on mythical cryptids. Robin laughs at the oddest things, but they've always had a weird relationship with monster media.

* * *

"Shit," Dahlia curses quietly. She's grown more comfortable with having me in her space, though I think part of that is because she gets so engrossed in her work that she forgets I'm there. 

Dahlia struggles with her scissors a little longer before dropping it and her fabric on the table with a sigh. A quick glance at the clock has her sighing again. 

"What's wrong?" 

Dahlia jumps in her seat—I've been good about staying unobtrusive…too good, I suppose, "Oh! Sorry, Jamie, I forgot you were here."

She turns pink. 

"Optimus gave me some of their performance fabrics to work with," she holds up the pile in front of her, "But my scissors aren't sharp enough. We might as well call it a night. I'll get a new set tomorrow and–" 

"I can fix that!" I blurt out eagerly, "I mean…if you're willing to let me try?" 

Dahlia looks at me curiously, "You carry sharpening tools with you?" 

"No," I laugh, "But I know a few tricks. I just need some foil and a glass–if you have a beer bottle or similar that'll work perfectly." 

Dahlia shrugs and leads me into her kitchen. I've only seen it in passing, but it's just as neat and orderly as the rest of her apartment. 

I wonder if that means she's really good at cleaning, or if she just doesn't cook often. 

"Do you like 805?" Dahlia looks through her fridge, "I've also got some milk stout." 

I furrow my brow, "I was just going to raid your recycling?" 

"It was trash day today," Dahlia gestures at her empty bin, "I figured a drink is the least I owe you for saving me some time and money."

She pulls out two bottles and holds them up for me to see. 

"Uh, I'll take an 805, then."

Dahlia sets the bottles on the counter and pulls two glasses out of a cupboard, "There's foil in that drawer–the one on your left."

I get a sheet of foil and start folding it as Dahlia pours our drinks out. She hands me my glass and an empty bottle, then holds up her own drink for a toast—a surprisingly playful gesture from her. 

I clink my glass against hers and we each take a sip, "To life hacks!" 

Dahlia smiles at my joke, "To life hacks."

I set my drink down to start sharpening her scissors. It's not hard—I just have to cut the foil in strips, then hone the edges on the bottle neck. I spent a few extra minutes cleaning the scissors carefully. Dahlia sips her beer as she watches me work, her eyes focused on my hands. 

We return to her office, and Dahlia cautiously starts cutting. The blades effortlessly slice through the fabric, and she shoots me a grateful smile. 

"Thanks, Jamie," she pauses her cutting to grin at me, "I'll be sure to credit you when I win. How does 'equipment manager' sound?" 

It's a pretty lame joke, but Dahlia's dry delivery sells it. I chuckle softly, "Someone's confident."

"Of course," Dahlia finishes her drink, "I've got the best company supporting me, providing me with the best resources and the best intern to help me out!" 

"Aren't you forgetting something in all that?" I giggle at her confusion, "What about _you_? You're the one creating the design, after all. Everything else is extra."

Dahlia flushes bright red, "Right. Of course. That too."

She awkwardly pats her face, then frowns, "Shoot. Sorry, Asian glow is a real thing."

"No need to apologize. You okay?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It usually doesn't kick in so fast, or with so little," she looks contrite, "I'm apologizing because it was unprofessional of me to suggest drinking while working."

I shrug. I'm not really understanding the sudden topic change, "People drink at business lunches, it's fine."

"Right, right," Dahlia nods absentmindedly, though her face is still flushed, "I just meant–I don't want…Let me know if I'm ever making you uncomfortable." 

Oh. She's just being considerate, I guess. 

"Yeah, of course," I try to give her a reassuring smile, "You're a great boss, Dahlia. Don't worry."

"Well, you make it easy," Dahlia's expression is hard to read, "I'll be sure to put in a good word for you after the contest. You deserve to be more than an intern." 

I don't know how to respond to that, but Dahlia doesn't push for a reply as she falls back into her work.

* * *

Snapshot goes all out for the contest—it's a rooftop party full of internet celebrities dressed to the nines. Dahlia told me it wasn't formal, but I can't help but feel underdressed around all these glamorous people.

Dahlia picks up on my nerves, "Hey, don't stress. Most of the people are just here to schmooze the same way we are, and with the way the internet works, no one wants to accidentally snub a rising star. Just act like you belong here–because you do."

Her attention shifts to something behind me, and her gentle smile becomes predatory. 

"It's been a while, Wavy." 

Dahlia's face scrunches in annoyance, and I turn around to see a woman clad in purple wearing an equally vicious smirk.

"Have you been avoiding me?" the woman teases. 

"Just busy," Dahlia puts herself between me and the stranger, "I've been working on a lot of projects. _Big_ projects."

The other woman scoffs, "Me too, but I still stay online while I work on them."

"Maybe your projects aren't big enough then," Dahlia crosses her arms, "After all, none of your sponsors are quite as powerful as Optimus, are they?" 

A strange expression crosses the other woman's face—pity? concern?—but it's gone in a flash, replaced with a friendly smile, "I've missed you, Wavy."

"Me too," Dahlia softens, "But I've gotten a lot done in the last year."

The other woman looks at me curiously, which draws Dahlia's attention—she seems to have forgotten I was here. 

"Sorry, I'm being rude," Dahlia looks embarrassed, "Jamie, this is Andi Kim. She's a colleague of mine, another popular Snapshot figure."

"Andi," Dahlia gestures at me, "This is Jamie Reid, one of my co-workers from Optimus' marketing team."

I look at Andi curiously. This must be the person Dahlia mentioned before—the person she wants to beat. 

"Nice to meet you, Andi," I offer her my hand to shake, but she turns it over and kisses my knuckles instead—a bit of static shocks me as her lips touch my skin. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jamie," Andi checks me out, "You're quite charming."

She turns to face Dahlia, "Wavy, how have you hidden such a beautiful woman away at Optimus?" 

My face goes hot. Dahlia mentioned she and Andi have overlapping fan bases and I can see why. They're both attractive—in different ways, of course. Dahlia has cool beauty where Andi has chaotic charm. 

Dahlia slaps Andi's wrist, making her let go of my hand, "Don't mind her, Jamie. She's got strange ideas about professional behavior. I hope she hasn't made you uncomfortable." 

She levels a heated glare at Andi, who ignores Dahlia in favor of winking at me. 

Dahlia bristles, but I cut in before the situation can escalate, "Why don't we take a look at the contest entries?" 

I gesture at the main stage, where several gym bag designs are on display. It takes me a few seconds to notice that Dahlia's and Andi's designs are right next to each other, in the dead center of all the entries. 

Well, it looks like whoever is in charge decided to play up their rivalry. Not a bad idea, considering how much attention their argument has already gotten. 

"Jamie, would you mind telling Andi about our product?" 

Well…that's technically what I'm here for.

I clear my throat, "Dahlia created a sleek, minimalist design that incorporates Optimus' signature colors. It also uses Optimus' trademark technical fabrics, so it's both functional and fashionable. The exterior is hydrophobic to prevent stains and dampness, while the interior is antimicrobial to prevent odors."

Dahlia smirks, "As you can see, my design is more polished than yours."

She's not wrong. Andi's bag is cute—it looks like a cat—but it's not as put together as Dahlia's. 

"Street fashion doesn't need polish," Andi crosses her arms. 

Dahlia smiles, "But professional merchandise does."

Andi clenches her fists, and I can sense another argument brewing. While it's interesting to see someone manage to get Dahlia this worked up, it's starting to get too intense for me. I subtly excuse myself, though they're both too engrossed in their bickering to notice my departure.

I work the crowd, making sure to promote Dahlia's design and Optimus' involvement. It's not hard—once I name drop Optimus, people are eager to learn more about the bag and how the company is involved. I even get the chance to plug my upcoming BTS special a few times. 

"Hey," Dahlia rests her hand on my shoulder, "Good work tonight. Go ahead and take it easy–this is a party, after all."

I wasn't much of a party girl in college, and the idea of mingling with drunk strangers isn't all that appealing. If we're done working, though, then maybe I could just hang out with Dahlia? 

I open my mouth to ask, but she's already being approached by fans and other people who want to schmooze. I don't want to interrupt her, so I head over to the bar—alcohol is called social lubricant for a reason, though to be honest I'm just craving something sweet. 

"Well hello there," a sultry voice greets me, "Jamie, right?" 

I jump—I didn't notice Andi standing there, "Yes, that's me."

I look at the crowd curiously, "You're not promoting your entry?" 

"Nah," Andi waves dismissively, "I'd rather let my work speak for itself. Besides–" 

Andi gives me another flirtatious once over. 

"–I'd much rather be getting to know you."

She waves the bartender down, "Could I get an aviation? And a–" 

Andi looks at me expectantly. 

"Sidecar, please?"

"And a sidecar for the pretty lady," she finishes. 

Andi tips the bartender generously after she slides our drinks over the counter. 

Andi eyes me again as she sips her purple drink, "So, what's it like working at Optimus?" 

"It's office work," I shrug, "Though it is nice knowing that I'm working for a company that helps so many people."

Andi's expression goes flat, then her aloof smirk returns, "Wavy's not here, you don't have to be a corporate shill right now."

"I enjoy my work–and I believe in it too," I scowl, "Sorry if that offends you."

Andi looks surprised at my outburst, but she's interrupted before she can respond. 

"Is she bothering you, Jamie?" Dahlia sets her hand on my shoulder again, leveling a glare at Andi. 

"It's fine," I don't want to start a scene, "Thanks for the drink, Andi, but I have some business I need to discuss with Dahlia now."

I usher Dahlia away from the bar—away from Andi—until we're on one of the quieter balconies. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dahlia asks, "Andi can be…" 

"A huge flirt?" I finish for her with a laugh, "Yeah, I'm fine. She was laying it on pretty thick, but that didn't bother me."

Dahlia raises an eyebrow, "But something else did?" 

I blush. Either I'm an open book or Dahlia has been paying more attention to me than I thought, "Just a comment about me being a 'corporate shill'. Like there's something wrong with enjoying my work."

"That sounds like her," Dahlia nods. 

"I know I shouldn't take it personally, but working for Optimus has been something I've wanted my whole life, y'know?" I gesture vaguely, "They've helped so many people–is it wrong to want to be a part of that?" 

Dahlia takes a long sip of her own drink, "I admire that part about you, so no. Ignore Andi–she's probably just jealous."

"R–right," I stammer, then take a drink to hide my blush. 

When I muster the courage to look at Dahlia, she's also sporting her own blush—though it could just be the alcohol. 

Dahlia clears her throat, "Unfortunately, we'll probably be crossing paths with Andi again, considering my new role." 

She looks at me intensely, "If she gives you any trouble at all, let me know. I'll deal with her."

I nod—I'm too overwhelmed to speak without squeaking. My chest feels warm. I haven't seen this side of Dahlia before, and the way she's looking at me has my heart racing. She takes a step closer, her eyes still locked with mine. 

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" 

We spring apart like magnets. Dahlia whirls around to face whoever interrupted us, her water bottle in hand. I get ready to shout, but the sight in front of me leaves me speechless. 

"You two look cozy," the masked stranger says, "But I'm afraid I'll have to cut in. I have business with this one." 

She gestures at Dahlia with one hand, then points the other at me—it lights up with purple sparks, "Come with me Ms. London. If you don't…well, your companion might find the consequences rather _shocking_."


End file.
